


hello kitty bandaids

by hemothorax



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hope's Peak Academy (Dangan Ronpa), Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Angst with a Happy Ending, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hope's Peak Academy, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Panic Attacks, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, THESE MAKE IT SOUND SUPER DARK AND ITS NOT HORRIBLE ITS JUST KAZUICHI HAVING A BAD DAY OK, adhd and bad days and there's soft comfort, fuyuhiko comforting kazuichi <3, i swear it gets fluffy at the end its just a vent fic where i project onto kazuichi :((, intrusive thoughts too, its fluffy at the end i promise, its me projecting onto kazuichi, kazuichi has adhd, please dont let the tags scare u, this was titled 'me projecting onto kazuichi' in google docs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26110888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hemothorax/pseuds/hemothorax
Summary: “Don’t apologize, take the bandaid so ya don’t pick at it.” Fuyuhiko held out the little bandage, waiting for Kazuichi to take it.Gingerly, he did, unwrapping it and covering the bleeding area— after doing so, did he notice it was hot pink hello kitty bandaids.“..Hello kitty?”Turning to face the yakuza, he noticed that Fuyuhiko wasn’t looking at him, cheeks bright red and eyes closed.“D-Don’t talk about it.. I.. They just happened to, uh.. match your hair.” The shorter stuttered out, gritting his teeth a little.---kazuichi has a bad day, fuyuhiko tries to make him feel better.
Relationships: Kuzuryu Fuyuhiko/Soda Kazuichi
Comments: 16
Kudos: 144





	hello kitty bandaids

**Author's Note:**

> !! HERE IS YOUR TRIGGER WARNING !!
> 
> this fic will contain many intrusive thoughts, suicidal thoughts, mentions of self harm, and an in-depth account of a panic attack.
> 
> this was written as kind of a vent fic, i just projected heavily onto kazuichi while writing this since he's one of my highest kins and honestly he's hella neurodivergent coded. adhd kazuichi <3\. ALSO there barely any kuzusouda content and i live for it.... pls come talk to me about kuzusouda on twitter <3 @hugcheols

The day started off as normally as any other day would.

Kazuichi woke up with half an hour to spare before classes would start, brain foggy from sleep and stumbling around his room to feel around for his jumpsuit. With a groan, he got to his hands and knees and felt around his clothes-covered floor (he swears he’ll set a day aside to clean— soon) to grab the t-shirt that fell off his desk chair last night, eventually finding it when his hand brushed the rough fabric of the hem. Standing up to throw his clothes on, he almost fell back onto his bed as his vision sparkled around the edges from the rush of changing position so fast.

“Agh— fuck dude.” The mechanic groaned to nobody, waiting a few moments with a maliciously tight grip on the bed frame beside him.

After his vision settled back, he spotted the little orange prescription bottles that sat on his desk and made a bee line for them. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get a proper grip on the day if he didn’t take his meds— he neglected to the past two days, and now he was starting to feel the withdrawal symptoms, including feeling his pulse through his entire body at times, and flashes of dizziness that threatened to push him onto the ground. Rattling the little bottles, a habit and ritual of his, he opened them and fished out the white and orange capsule that would jumpstart his day and keep him focused.

Kazuichi was diagnosed with ADHD a few years ago, and was still on a journey of self-discovery. His parents didn’t believe in mental health, so being the rebellious bastard he was, he got in touch with the former Super High School Level Psychologist at Hope’s Peak and begged for something close to a diagnosis. After a few visits with the lady, she was able to pull a few strings and get him a real doctors appointment to be officially diagnosed and get medications that would go on record— irrefutable evidence that his parents were forced to face. Yeah, it really didn’t go over all too well, and there’s still a slight rift between Kazuichi and his parents to this day, but if he had never begged the psychologist for help, he would probably be struggling and flunked out of Hope’s Peak.

With a shake of his head and a toss of his prescription bottle (which fell, but oh well, he’d remember that it was there and pick it up tomorrow morning when he needed to take his medication again), Kazuichi grabbed the half-flat, nearly empty, and lukewarm bottle of cola that had a home stuffed under his pillow. No, cola really wasn’t what he should be drinking in the morning, but taking his meds with only water makes him feel nauseous, and he doesn’t feel like being nauseous this morning. So, twisting the cap off the sad cola, he took a drink and tossed the capsule in, swallowing and chugging the rest _because honestly, why the hell not at this point_. The sensation of half-flat cola made him shake his hands and twitch his head, a stim that he would usually cover up in front of others.

Masking was something Kazuichi recently learned about, and never realized that he does. He guessed, growing up neurodivergent, masking comes naturally and becomes second nature. Only in the complete privacy of himself would he let himself do things like stim and tic, make noises that kind of forced their way out of his mouth and twitches that he didn’t bother to suppress. When he was in his workshop, he would do it a lot, because more often than not he was alone and blaring music that sounded like bubbles and like that itch in the back of your mind that you could never settle.

Around other people, even with his own boyfriend, he put up a front and acted like a slightly altered version of himself— it was still him, but not down to the nitty gritty.

_Knock, knock, knock._

“Oi, Kazu, you awake?”

Speaking of which, that was him right there.

“Yeah! Sorry, I need to brush my teeth real fast.” His voice sounded raspy, and he kicked piles of somewhat color coordinated clothes out of the main center of the floor to make a path.

“Well hurry up, open the door while you’re at it.”

Without other words, the mechanic would dash over and unlock his dorm door for the smaller. Swinging the door open and turning the lights on simultaneously, the Super High School Level Yakuza walked past Kazuichi and seated himself on his bed.

The smaller never judged the clutter of his room, something Kazuichi was eternally thankful for but still insecure about, and simply helped him tidy up the laundry piles— his small gesture being how he showed appreciation for the mechanic.

After closing the door behind Fuyuhiko, Kazuichi would walk to his bathroom and grab the toothbrush and toothpaste from wherever he left it the previous day… but, uh, where exactly was that?

Furrowing his brows, Kazuichi stared at the sink, and then darted his eyes around the bathroom, scraping his brain for where he might’ve left them.

Did he bring them into his living area? No, he would’ve remembered that. Is it.. uh.. _shoot_.

The pink-haired boy sucked his cheeks and chewed on them, an anxious habit that he picked up after realizing he nearly demolished an entire section of his molars from grinding his teeth as a child. Glancing around the bathroom again, he let out a disgruntled noise before squatting down to check in the cabinet and drawers. _Nope_ , not there either.

With frustration rising and his cheeks heating up, he started to get a little more shaky, standing to check the cabinet on the wall. Opening the doors— and no, not there either.

“The fuck..?” He whispered to himself, growing more and more frustrated and anxious by the millisecond, and feeling the back of his eyes sting with tears.

God, he hated it when he got frustrated, he cried so easily and it was so annoying because then he got more frustrated that he’s crying and then because he cries when he’s frustrated he cries more and the cycle goes on and on until he’s sobbing.

“Kazu?” The blonde would call out, not hearing the electric whirring of the other’s toothbrush, despite him stepping into his bathroom a few minutes ago.

“H-Huh?”

Kazuichi heard the rustling of the bed, and quickly rubbed his eyes to rid of the stupid tears that sprung up to his waterline.

“Are you— hey, you okay?” Fuyuhiko furrowed his brows as well, seeing the glossiness of Kazuichi’s eyes.

“Oh, yeah, I just put in eye drops. My eyes are kinda dry, that’s all.” He murmured, the lie slipping out naturally.

Skeptical, Fuyuhiko nodded and leaned against the doorframe, obviously sensing the tension in Kazuichi’s shoulders that the latter didn’t seem to notice. With the overwhelming presence of his boyfriend now keeping an eye on him, it was vital to him to keep composure. It was like he felt burning lightbulbs on his back, feeling the stare of his eyes as he watched every movement Kazuichi made. With a silent prayer mantra in his head, Kazuichi reached up and patted the top of the cabinet as a last ditch to try and find his toothbrush and toothpaste.

_Bingo!_

Finally, there they were. Why they were on top of the cabinet instead of sitting on the sink countertop like it should be, Kazuichi honestly couldn’t remember. He misplaces things a lot, a little too much, and when he’s alone and nobody sees where he sets things down, it ends up getting lost or forgotten about.

Fuyuhiko noticed the tension fade from Kazuichi’s shoulders when he pulled the toothpaste and toothbrush from on top of the cabinet, and it clicked. With a gentle movement, he moved forward and rested his forehead on the mechanic’s back. It was, again, a small gesture, but the small gestures are what make the bigger ones so much more memorable. Kazuichi knew that the yakuza didn’t like to be particularly touchy in public, but they were like any other couple in private, showering each other with PDA during the less-busy moments of their hellish schedule.

The unlikely pair had been dating for over a year now, their junior year at Hope’s Peak rendering to be everything the rumors said— busy, hellish, chaotic, and long. Over the course of this year, both of them picked up on habits that the other would do. Fuyuhiko would notice the small things, like little bouts of stimming Kazuichi had, and the things that make him extremely uncomfortable (one of those things would be specific types of fabric. For the absolute life of him, Kazuichi couldn’t bear to wear fabric that felt like a towel on his skin, he says it makes him itchy). For Kazuichi, he noticed the various features that gave away whatever emotion the “stone-cold” yakuza felt, like if his brows were furrowed normally, or pushed closer together in a worried or anxious manner.

Shaking his head a little to clear the thoughts that were starting to distract the taller, he globbed the toothpaste onto the brush and started brushing. Fuyuhiko stayed, leaning against his back the whole time, staring down at his phone as he idly scrolled through social media. After a few minutes, Kazuichi bent down to spit and rinse his mouth out, causing Fuyuhiko to go back to his post at the door frame.

“Aye, hurry up a little, we got fifteen minutes to make it to homeroom.” The blonde murmured, turning away so he wouldn’t see Kazuichi putting in contacts.

It always made him squeamish, and involuntarily made his eyes water, watching people mess with their eyes and put contacts in.

“Alright, alright. If you need to you can walk without me.” The taller of the two offered, knowing that Fuyuhiko liked to be on time.

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” He waved a dismissive hand, going back to sitting on his boyfriend's bed, waiting for him to put contacts in.

Like an expert, he put the hot-pink lenses in quickly, giving his eyes a few seconds to adjust. Now things were clear, and he was ready to get going. While walking out of the bathroom, Kazuichi hissed sharply as something hard pressed into the sole of his foot, and he fell forward dramatically when his leg gave away. Making a loud thumping sound, he landed on the floor and gripped his desk chair— which, as he grabbed it when falling over, also fell over. So, the entire building probably heard him fall onto the floor.

“Jesus fuck, Kazu, are you okay?” Fuyuhiko stared incredulously, setting the phone he was staring at aside to go over to his whining boyfriend.

“Yeah, yeah, yes, I’m fine, just hurt a little.” Kazuichi would mumble, tears springing to his eyes for the second time this morning.

Without more words being exchanged, Fuyuhiko moved the desk chair upright before helping his boyfriend up to his feet. Glancing at the area he stepped, he found the offending object that Kazuichi probably stepped on: a bottle cap. A sigh escaped his lips, and Kazuichi visibly flinched from it.

_God, Kazuichi, you absolute dumbass. You made Fuyuhiko annoyed._ Kazuichi would think to himself, wiping his eyes really quickly before rushing to put on the first two socks he found on the floor.

“Be more careful, Kaz.” Fuyuhiko mumbled, casting a worried glance to him.

(Kazuichi couldn’t tell what that glance was, perhaps he annoyed him by being too careless. That’s probably it. What a stupid, stupid, _stupid,_ idiot.)

He only made a noise of acknowledgement, Fuyuhiko grabbing the red plastic and tossing it in the trashcan full of crumpled up grid paper. After shoving his shoes on and slinging his backpack on his shoulders, Kazuichi walked stiffly to the door where Fuyuhiko was waiting.

“You okay?”

The anxiety in his walk didn’t go unnoticed, but when Kazuichi nodded wordlessly, Fuyuhiko let it be for now. He didn’t like to push feelings out of his boyfriend, especially when Fuyuhiko wasn’t able to fully comprehend how Kazuichi handled emotions and feelings. Kazuichi was neurodivergent, afterall, and Fuyuhiko wasn’t, so there was no real way he would ever be able to truly understand how the mechanic’s brain worked. After they both left Kazuichi’s dorm, Fuyuhiko took his hand and walked down the corridor, entangling their fingers together in a gentle, soothing notion.

The pair walked in a comfortable silence, reaching the homeroom classroom just before the first bell rang. Kazuichi felt Fuyuhiko’s hand loosen and remove itself from his grip as they sat in their respective seats. His hand now colder, he stuffed it into his jumper pocket to roll around a piece of lint in there, squishing and pressing it between his thumb and index finger. His mind slipped away from reality, going into a dreamland and focusing on the feeling of the lint on the pads of his fingers.

“Gooood morning!” A loud voice snapped him out of the trance, and then his ears were suddenly overwhelmed.

While he was spacing out, the rest of his classmates had filed in and stood around talking in their respective friend groups. Mioda had just shown up, a brightly colored guitar slung on her back with an AMP that Kazuichi had played with a few days ago being dragged in behind her, like a wheelie suitcase.

“Sooouuuda-kun!” The musician would bounce up to Kazuichi’s desk, her smile as bright as ever, “This new amp is AMAZING, it’s so loud and makes the floor go ‘brrrbrbrrrrr’ when I strum my guitar!”

Feeling pride swell in his chest, he gave a snaggle-toothed grin, “Of course! That _is_ my specialty— plus, it shouldn’t blow out. If you manage to blow it out, I’ll be impressed!”

Sparing a glance around the room, his ears fell victim to a cacophony of noises and voices.

When a normal person walks into a room, they can hear the conversations closest to them, right? For Kazuichi, and many other people like him, it was like he heard everything in the room at the same volume. He could distinctly hear Saionji and Koizumi chatting in the far corner, and also hear Hinata, Komaeda, and Nekomaru heatedly talking about something next to them, all at the same volume. It was like— like in a video game, there’s area-chat where your character can only listen in and respond to conversations within a certain area around it, but area-chat was broken for Kazuichi, meaning that he could hear conversations across the map at the same level as the ones next to him.

It was disorienting, it always was, and it’s always been like this. His ears hear everything, yet nothing at the same time. The noises blended into static, making no sense as words flew in one ear and out the other, yet he still heard the noises.

So, when Mioda waved her hand in front of Kazuichi’s face to get his attention, he snapped back and gave a nervous laugh.

“Heellloooo? Is Souda-kun feeling alright?” Mioda asked, eyes wide in an endearing curiosity.

“Huh?” He automatically spit out, brain taking a few extra moments to register what was actually said to him. As Mioda was repeating herself, it clicked in his head, “Oh! Yeah, sorry, just tired and kinda out of it.”

Kazuichi laughed nervously again, scratching the back of his head. After exactly six scratches, his hands went to his lap, where he started picking at his calloused nail beds to keep something on his person moving. Slightly annoyed at himself, he frowned internally and wondered why his meds weren’t kicking in. Usually, by now, the dry mouth side-effect of the stimulants would kick in, and he’d be able to focus, feeling that initial boost that his medication gave.

“Oh, well, Ibuki said that she looooves the feeling of the speaker and was wondering if Souda-kun could fix up her bluetooth speaker for Ibuki’s phone?” Mioda would press her fingers together, giving a sheepish grin to the mechanic.

“Uh— yeah, of course! It might take a few days, I have a few different projects lined up right now—” 

“Aaww!” Kazuichi was abruptly cut off by a suffocating bear hug, “Thaaaank you almighty Super High School Level Mechanic!”

Choking for a split second, Kazuichi’s hands flew up and patted the boisterous girl on the back a few times before she pulled away.

“Ibuki can drop off her speaker at your workshop later today, is that okay with you?”

“Oh, uh, yeah! I’ll be there after homeroom for most of the day.” Kazuichi bounced his leg under his desk, his arms now laying out on his desk.

His premonition told him that someone was staring at his back, and taking a split second to glance around, he made quick eye contact with Fuyuhiko— who looked away with a subtle blush reddening his ears.

“Aaaalright! Thank you again!” Mioda then bounced off, towing the personalized amp behind her to her seat, where she struck up a conversation with the aforementioned Saionji and Koizumi.

Kazuichi felt his lungs dramatically deflate, not realizing he had taken in a large breath. A large tap on the back of his arm made him look back at Fuyuhiko, who was moving to sit properly at his desk.

“You okay, Kazu?” Fuyuhiko would mumble, putting his head in a hand.

His eyes flickered down to Kazuichi’s hands, where he was using his index and middle fingers to scrape and pick at a hangnail that was already bleeding pretty badly unbeknownst to the owner of said hand.

“Hey, your thumb, Kaz.” The yakuza mumbled, automatically reaching back to his small backpack to grab a bandaid.

“Huh? Oh— oh, oops, uhh..” Kazuichi stammered, sucking his thumb to clean the blood off the scraped area.

He hadn’t even noticed he picked at that spot so much, nonetheless that he was bleeding. It happens too often, so often that Fuyuhiko keeps a little case of bandaids in the small pocket of his backpack for occasions such as this (not to mention the many little scrapes and cuts that the both of them get from their respective talents). 

“S-Sorry..” Kazuichi mumbled with a strained chuckle, taking his thumb out of his mouth to wipe it dry on the pants of his jumpsuit— which just resulted in a little red smear going down the leg.

“Don’t apologize, take the bandaid so ya don’t pick at it.” Fuyuhiko held out the little bandage, waiting for Kazuichi to take it.

Gingerly, he did, unwrapping it and covering the bleeding area— after doing so, did he notice it was hot pink hello kitty bandaids.

“..Hello kitty?”

Turning to face the yakuza, he noticed that Fuyuhiko wasn’t looking at him, cheeks bright red and eyes closed.

“D-Don’t talk about it.. I.. They just happened to, uh.. match your hair.” The shorter stuttered out, gritting his teeth a little.

In the back of Kazuichi’s mind, he knew it was just a small affectionate gesture, but the forefront of his brain registered it as annoyance. He annoyed his boyfriend, and shouldn’t have asked that. Damnit, why did he bring it up? Now Fuyuhiko was mad at him, and he felt stupid and guilty. Why’d he have to open his stupid mouth up? Stupid stupid stupid stupid _stupid stupid stupid stupid—_

“Goodmorning, class!”

Their teacher, Ms. Yukizome, bounced in, cheerful as always. She captured the attention of all the students, the ones who were standing quickly shuffling to their seats as she made her way to the podium.

With the haunting thoughts that swirled around Kazuichi’s brain stalled for the moment, he turned around to face the front, the mantra of _stupid stupid stupid stupid_ repeating without yeild, slowly forming into terrifying intrusive thoughts. It consumed his thoughts, mind, ears, brain, all of it. Horrifying intrusive thoughts plagued him, spiralling from a simple ‘you annoyed him’ that whispered into existence merely a minute ago.

_What would happen if you didn’t exist. Who would really care. Would anyone care? What if you had done yourself a favor and killed yourself all those years ago. You would’ve never had to cause the misery you cause now, it would be so much easier, right? So so so much easier. Happier. Maybe your classmates would have a better classmate. Maybe Fuyuhiko would be happier with someone else, huh? You’re really hindering him, just a hindrance that refuses to leave him alone. So dependent, so annoying, such a stupid, lonely baby. Go jump, you know you can, you know you want to—_

“Souda-kun?” Yukizome’s voice snapped him out of it, and without realizing it, tears had started to bite at the back of his eyes, threatening to creep onto his waterline again.

“H-Here!” He stuttered out, ears reddening violently as his voice cracked.

He heard Saionji snicker and whisper something to Koizumi, who— although looked upset at the remark —still stifled her chuckle.

They were talking bad, weren’t they. They were making fun of him. It felt like every single pair of eyes in the classroom bore into him, and he couldn’t bring himself to look around for fear of locking eyes with someone else, and for fear that locking eyes would make him tear up, and then start to cry, and then hyperventilate _, and then panic, and then make the world spin, and then make him have a panic attack, and then—_

Kazuichi hissed in pain, looking down at his hand, where he had unknowingly ripped open a scab, making blood bubble up and roll down the curve. Panicking a little, he wiped the back of his hand onto the legs of his jumpsuit again, seeing the red blotch and smear. When he lifted his hand back up, it bubbled up again. This wound was going to bleed a lot, but he didn’t want to bother Fuyuhiko more than he already had. So, instead he pressed his hand to his jumpsuit leg, and kept it there, hoping the pressure would stop the bleeding eventually.

With a fragile intake of breath, he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before looking at the clock above the door.

Huh?

It’d been almost an hour since Kazuichi took his meds, they surely should’ve started working by now, why was he still so… so… all over the place? Why would it have to be today of all days that his meds refused to work? He had projects he wanted to work on, and the speaker from Mioda added to his workload.

“..Kaz.” He heard a whisper from behind him, clearly Fuyuhiko.

Turning his head around to glance at what his boyfriend wanted, and saw that he was holding out another bandaid.

“O-Oh! It’s fine, don’t—” The mechanic had started, but was cut off with a pointed look from the shorter.

“Take it, Kaz,” Fuyuhiko breathed out, keeping his voice low since Yukizome was instructing, “I saw your hand bleedin’.”

With a reluctant sigh, Kazuichi took it— he was inconveniencing everyone around him today, wasn’t he. He hated feeling like this, knowing he was annoying everyone around him, that people were gonna stare at him and think ‘god, what’s wrong with shark-boy over there?’. It was a feeling that took the wind out of him, like a hefty punch to the gut. Despite it all, he peeled the bandaid open slowly, as to not make much noise, and put it over the profusely bleeding cut that he ripped open by accident. He crinkled up the wrapper, stuffing it in his pocket with the lint, and tried to go back to paying attention.

Of course, he couldn’t. His brain was running with a million thoughts, hearing everything Yukizome was saying, but only listening to a portion of it. He only registered the small details, and barely caught onto whatever writing lesson that he was supposed to be paying attention to. Hell, Kazuichi even had his notebook flipped open to a blank page, but nothing was written. He has his pretty color-coded pencils and blank sheet, ready to take notes (since he desperately needed help on narrative writing— what in the actual fuck is that?) but the sheet of paper stayed blank. It stared back at him, as he frowned at it, the clean white sheet mocking him silently with the pens jeering it on.

With a frustrated exhale through the nose, he grasped the black pen a little harder than he meant to, the sudden movement and noise garnering the attention of Nidai and Komaeda that sat next to him. He frustratedly wrote down ‘Narrative writing’ in sloppy chicken scratch at the top of the page, but felt lost when he pressed the pen down to write anything else. He heard those around him taking notes, the pressing of pen against paper, the gentle scratching of the sharp tip grazing the sheet. And, yet, Kazuichi’s hand refused to move. He willed it to, begged it to move, do something, write something so maybe he could mindlessly continue, but he only jerked his hand in a frustrated tic, causing a mockingly dark line to go across part of the page.

He clenched his jaw, grinding down on his molars and staring at the ugly, smeared line. He had to write something. It felt like everyone was staring, everyone was looking over, seeing the stuttering, good-for-nothing mechanic not write a single thing on his paper. He felt disappointment and pity bleed from them, fear that everyone really was judging him paralyzing Kazuichi into his spot. Just something, anything, write _fucking something you absolute waste of space fuckass!_

He lifted his head up, seeing words on the whiteboard and writing them down, not bothering to stop and make them comprehensible to Kazuichi. He just wrote the words down, making it seem like he was doing something. Of course, none of it will make sense when he looks back at it— he’s not putting it into his own words, he’s not even paying attention. His mind was somewhere else, not even the mechanic himself knew where. It just.. wasn’t with him. A song simply played on repeat instead, like a shitty replacement for a functioning brain.

The colored pens on his desk lay untouched, his arms wrapped protectively around the notebook as if he needed to keep his notes away from the public eye for fear of ridicule and judgement. He hunched over, teeth grinding, head in a spinning loop, just robotically writing down anything that Yukizome put up on the whiteboard.

Kazuichi felt like he had been writing for well over an hour, but a glance at the clock told him it had only been 25 minutes— how long was homeroom even supposed to be? Sure, he had this class every day, but.. he just couldn't remember right now.

“Class, we’re having a shorter lesson today!”

Kazuichi clearly picked up that line from his teacher, subtly realizing he was clenching his jaw and grinding his teeth. He forced himself to relax, staring at the top right corner of the podium instead of at Yukizome. Once his jaw was more relaxed, he realized he had totally missed the explanation Yukizome gave about the shorter lesson. With everyone packing their bags and chattering amongst friend groups again, he clicked his pen and slapped his journal shut.

A sigh slid between his lips, shoving his notebook into his bag, along with the colored pens, and thunked the bag onto his desk to lay his head into. Kazuichi closed his eyes for a moment, forehead resting against the bag and acting as a pillow for the moment.

Fuyuhiko noticed this, he could tell it was an off day for his boyfriend. Ever since this morning, the yakuza has been keeping an eye on Kazuichi— maybe he was a little overbearing, but it was something that he couldn't ignore. Even so, he knew the latter needed his space, and sometimes bothering the mechanic would make things a lot worse. Thus, Fuyuhiko packed his items and stood, deciding to lean against Kazuichi’s desk until the bell rang, dismissing them for the day.

Apparently the freshman class, the 79th class, needed to use a few of the upperclassmen classrooms for some kind of.. experiment? Project? Fuyuhiko doesn't really remember, he was worried over Kazuichi instead.

“Ehh?” Speaking of which, he lifted his head from his backpack, glancing up at Fuyuhiko with slightly mussed hair.

“Hmph, not fallin’ asleep, are ya?” The blonde would murmur, scrolling idly through his phone again.

That hit Kazuichi like a pang, and he felt guilty for even feeling tired. With a rushed out ‘N-No..’ he scrambled to stand up, as if that would prove his point.

(On any other day, that wouldn’t have bothered Kazuichi, but for today, it just felt like a jab at him. He couldn’t figure it out, and that made him even more upset.)

“Good. Bell’s about to ring, you gonna head to your workshop?” Fuyuhiko would lock his phone, turning to the taller as he spoke.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m.. probably gonna spend my day there.”

He waited a moment, waiting for Kazuichi to add on, but he didn’t.

Target spotted, target down.

“Ya feelin’ alright?” He would grab Kazuichi’s hand, ignoring the blood rushing to his ears and cheeks.

It was a small habit that Fuyuhiko would hear, a little habit of ‘wanna come work with me?’ after mentioning the workshop. It didn’t show up today, so he took it upon himself to ask instead.

Kazuichi flinched a little when he felt Fuyuhiko’s hand touch his— it wasn’t his fault, he was spacing out again, and wasn’t expecting it. Under Fuyuhiko’s observant gaze, it didn't go unnoticed, and with a gentler movement he grasped Kazuichi’s hand.

“Yeah— yeah, sorry.. I just.. ah..” Kazuichi would fiddle with his braid using his free hand, staring at a spot on the floor, “Just, um.. a spacey day.”

It was for lack of better words that he said that, he didn’t feel like spouting off about how his brain had really been treating him this morning when there could be prying ears around (yes, this was directed at Komaeda and Yukizome). Kazuichi’s brain had been mocking him all day, and it felt like it was painfully obvious to everyone to see, it felt like everyone was just _staring_ at him, pitying him. He hated that, he hated feeling like all the attention was on him at his worst moment, even when the rational part of his head knew nobody was paying attention— but, somehow, that hurt a little more.

“Do you wanna be alone in the shop for a little? I can take time off to study and come back with food around lunch time.” The shorter offered, his words being punctuated by Yukizome’s dismissal and pattering of footsteps.

“..Uh, yeah.. yeah, if that’s not too much of a bother.” Kazuichi also stood up, dislodging his hand from Fuyuhiko’s to grasp his bag and sling it over his shoulders.

“‘Course it ‘ain’t, Kazu. Go work and I’ll see ya a little later, yeah?”

Why, why _why why why_ did it sound like Fuyuhiko was mad at him? He wasn’t, was he? But then why was Kazuichi feeling so.. so guilty? For something he doesn't even know if he did or not?

“Y-Yeah, I’ll see you.”

Quickly, like he was just scolded and told to go to his room, Kazuichi walked off, an aura of loathing clinging to him like cobwebs.

Fuyuhiko twisted his face into a scowl, seeing his boyfriend walk off like that— he wishes he could help fight his demons, especially on days like today.

— — — — 

“Knooooock knock!!”

_WHAM._

“Agh— ow, ouch ouch fffff _ffffffuckermother_ son of a _dick_.”

“Sooouudaa— oh me oh my!”

Mioda had rampaged her way into Kazuichi’s workshop, gasping when he saw the pink-haired boy hunched over and holding his left hand to his chest. It bled from some kind of wound, looked like some kind of fucked up claw mark to the musician, and she shut the door to the workshop before bouncing over.

“Oh, Souda-kun!” She would gasp again, setting the bluetooth speaker she requested Kazuichi to mess with on a nearby car hood, “Are you okay? Does Ibuki need to get Tsumiki-chan?”

“No!” Kazuichi had shot out at first, startling the poor girl, “No, I— S-Sorry, no, it’s fine, I have stuff here to fix my hand up.”

“Ah.. Ibuki is sorry she scared you..” his classmate mumbled, and Kazuichi was knocked over with a wave of guilt and plaguing thoughts.

“H-Hey, Mioda-chan, it’s okay! Just— just a little scrape, yanno?” He covered the hand by shoving it into his jumpsuit pocket, a forced and awkward chuckle coming from his throat.

“If you’re sure, Souda-kun..” Mioda would mumble, pouting like a puppy whose treats just got yanked away, “Ibuki brought the speaker she was talking about earlier, but she sees these _biiiiiiig_ engine things that you’re working on!! Sooo, don’t worry! Ibuki is gonna play with the big bad speaker while she waits!”

It was an attempt to reassure the mechanic, but he just felt stressed, and guilty, and _upset and stupid and dumb and worthless and awful—_

“Y-Yeah.. I can, uh, try and get it done within a week, if that’s fine.”

“Spectacular!! Ibuki is forever in the great mechanic’s debt!” She cheered, ungraciously bowing in a dramatic fashion.

Maybe she sensed the tense atmosphere that was haunting Kazuichi today, or maybe she had somewhere else to be, but either way she bid a goodbye before skipping out of the workshop and leaving him to his thoughts again. He pulled out his still bleeding hand, inspecting the nasty and oil-covered scrape he earned himself from jumping at the sound of Mioda’s voice. He obviously made the girl feel bad, god, why couldn’t he control his emotions more? _Fucking idiot, Kazuichi, you upset her and you’ve been upsetting Fuyuhiko all day. What are you, a dumbass? Piece of shit, incompetent, rude, snobby.._

His brain went on and on, tears filling his vision as the mechanic stumbled over to where he kept a makeshift med kit. Oh— shit, wait, before he forgets.. Kazuichi swiped the speaker Mioda left and took it with him to put somewhere else after he cleaned the scrape. Sniffling and using the back of his clean hand to clear his eyes of tears, he set the speaker on the floor beside him and he sat criss cross applesauce. Kazuichi grabbed the hydrogen peroxide and some.. uh.. gauze, he thinks. Popping the cap open with a shaky hand, he placed the gauze and tipped the bottle over, trying to soak the stuff with the bubbly stuff.

_Shlick_.

Kazuichi gasped loudly, the hydrogen peroxide slipping from his hand due to the awkward grasp due to only using one. It splashed all over his jumpsuit, floor, medical supplies, and—

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck _fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck_.

The speaker.

Kazuichi fumbled and grabbed the hydrogen peroxide, setting it upright and staring at the puddle of ruined speaker and disinfectant.

_You broke her fucking speaker, what the fuck is wrong with you. You broke it. You broke it and she’s gonna be so pissed. You ruined it, you’re going to make her so sad and upset, way to fucking go. You’ve done nothing but make people upset today, why didn’t you just put it on the fucking counter? What the fuck is wrong with you?_

He didn’t notice for a second, but soon Kazuichi hunched over and sobbed into his hands. He sobbed, breathing and yelling out violently, the blaring music and soundproof walls saving the outside from hearing his full-blown meltdown. He sat in the hydrogen peroxide puddle, his lap and legs feeling cold from the liquid as he just cried and sobbed. His throat felt tight and his chest hurt, like he couldn't expel all the air, nor take in enough. He took in loud, sharp breaths and coughed out so hard his throat felt like he swallowed a bunch of screws and nails. Kazuichi couldn’t see anymore, eyes blurred from tears and ears ringing, his body felt numb and he rocked back and forth. He mumbled out incoherent words between heaving cries and coughs, curling up tightly and arms locking into a strange position. His arms shook violently, like he couldn’t control them, all power leaving his body and trying to escape through his fingertips. His nails dug harshly into his palms, barely registering the pain and starting to scratch. Scratch scratch scratch _scratch to feel something anything just something he needs to feel something other than his mind please please something pain pain pain_ **_pain pain pain pain_ **

He scratched at his arms, his wrists, clawing at them and leaving red welts and lines. He scraped his neck and exposed skin, his ankles and snaked hands into his jumpsuit to dig his nails into the soft skin on his biceps and leave little crescent shapes there. He kept choking and crying and scratching and clawing and sobbing and yelling and coughing _and hating and hating and hating and hating himself and hating himself and hating himself and hating himself._

**_i should die i dont deserve friends what the fuck is wrong with me why do i have to ruin everything why am i such a shitty person why am i like this why do i have to exist why wasnt i just aborted why didnt i just kill myself why didnt i just die im a waste of space what is fucking wrong with me_ **

Kazuichi screamed when something touched his shoulders, head whipping up and beanie slipping off. He turned around, skin patchy and eyes red and puffy, red lines on his arms and little crescent indentations. Even through the blurred lens and deafening ringing in his ears, he could tell it was Fuyuhiko.

_no no no no no no no no please no no please please no_

He hastily pushed the other away, screaming to himself as he shuffled and put himself into a corner, grabbing his head. He gripped the choppy layers of his hair and pulled and pulled so hard his head would split open. He heaved and couldn't breathe and tucked his legs to his chest, shaking and borderline convulsing. Kazuichi’s throat burned and felt raw and broken, but he felt like he couldn’t breathe and kept taking in raspy and stuttering breaths.

A shadow loomed over him again, and this time gently touched one of his hands. He shook still, not lifting his head up and faintly heard muffled words and a voice calling to him. All the blood rushing around his ears, he couldn’t tell what was being said, and just shut his eyes so tightly he could see patterns of neon on his eyelids. Slowly, like handling a newborn kitten, the hand that was touching the one grasping his hair with a death grip tried to pry the hand away. He felt the warmth of the other, of Fuyuhiko, and how the other shook with shock, or fear, he couldn’t tell. With a little more coercion, one of his hands was slowly sliding out of the hot-pink locks and instead being held by a smaller, softer hand. And, after a few more minutes, the other hand was in the same position.

Fuyuhiko stared in.. in fear. Not fear _of_ Kazuichi, fear _for_ Kazuichi. Fear for how long this had been bottled up, fear for how long this had been eating away at him.. Fuyuhiko knew that he himself was emotionally constipated, but with a little bit of help, he has outlets and is becoming better. Kazuichi.. he was something Fuyuhiko wishes he could understand. He could always try, he could listen to his boyfriend and see how his brain works, but Fuyuhiko would never truly understand it. Never truly be in his shoes and empathize. Thus.. the yakuza was _scared_.

Seeing the boy you love in pieces, ripping at his own body and hair, screaming in agony.. he needed to do something.

So, with the little experience he had, he tried to slowly get the mechanic’s death grip off his hair. What Fuyuhiko wasn’t expecting was the little indents where Kazuichi’s nails had been digging in, the red welted paths from scratching, the guttural despair crawling its way from the other. Fuyuhiko held onto his hands, mumbling gentle words while keeping a distance just in case the other felt threatened.

Minutes passed, Kazuichi was slobbering and sputtering, sniffling and wheezing. He slowly, so very slowly, came back from the panic attack he had. His hands were warm, still shaking like a brittle leaf in winter, but held to keep him afloat. It was that little nudge to help him swim up to the surface, to catch his breath and come down from the suffocating high. Finally able to hear something other than the ringing in his ears, he shakily lifted his head to glance at the shorter. He sat, patiently waiting for Kazuichi to bring himself down from the attack so they could talk.

It took a little while longer until Kazuichi could even speak without the tightening feeling coming back in his chest, but the tears slowed and the breathing normalized until he could feel okay.

“Th-ank.. you..” The mechanic choked out, eyes averting to the floor as tears sprung up again.

He let them roll down his cheeks, hiccupping and gripping the blond’s hands a little tighter for a moment.

“Kazu, just focus on calming down.” His voice was still gruff, still himself, but it helped Kazuichi stay in touch with reality.

He was fine, he was okay, he was Kazuichi Souda, the Super High School Level Mechanic, he was in his workshop, his boyfriend there with him. His boyfriend, Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu, the Super High School Level Yakuza, was also okay. Kazuichi squeezed his hands just to make sure— yes, he was okay. He was okay, he was there.

“..Do you want me to let go—”

“N-No!” Kazuichi spluttered, squeezing Fuyuhiko’s hands again.

Fuyuhiko nodded, sitting and waiting quietly for his boyfriend to calm down and feel a little better. Blaring music kept the two of them company while whimpers and sniffles died down. Both of them were shaking, but Fuyuhiko tried his best to calm down so he could help Kazuichi.

It was the least that the yakuza could do, anyway. Kazuichi had a big heart, listening to Fuyuhiko rant and rave after school, offering advice and always being there for him. Kazuichi was caring almost to fault, he helped everyone as much as he could and rarely focused on his own problems, something that the mechanic was still trying to get better with. Neither of them were taught how to healthily cope, and Fuyuhiko supposes that methods of coping come harder when your brain works differently. The amount of times Kazuichi sat with Fuyuhiko and let him dump out all his emotions was more than he can count. For him, Kazuichi dropped it all and devoted his attention to his boyfriend. During the day, he would wander around like the social butterfly he was, and settle with Fuyuhiko at lunch, joking and eating with him in an attempt to make the stone-cold gangster smile during the school day.

He had never even considered that Kazuichi avoided his own problems by trying to help others, and that seems to be what caused the downwards spiral of today.

With a gentle movement, Fuyuhiko slipped one of his hands out of Kazuichi’s (not without a little whine of protest) to grab the beanie that fell off his head. He brought the worn, woollen fabric up and set it in the mechanic’s free hand, and he gripped it.

“Th— thank you..” he mumbled, tucking the beanie into a pocket.

“Hey.. let's get you properly cleaned up, yeah? Can’t have ya bleedin’ all over the shop.” Fuyuhiko flashed a small smile, glancing behind him at the bandaids and disinfectant.

He grabbed the bottle, pulling it forward with the bandages.

“Lemme see your hand, Kazu.”

He reluctantly held his shaky hand out, the blood starting to coagulate along the scrapes and oil. Fuyuhiko grabbed some disinfecting wipes, opening the packet and wiping down the oil and blood. Kazuichi hissed a little as it stung a bit, but didn’t move away from the other. He knew it was okay. Nothing trying to hurt him. It was for his own good.

Kazuichi felt incredibly guilty as Fuyuhiko treated his hand, he felt like a burden, the lingering thoughts from his attack still biting at the back of his head.

“I’m.. I— I’m sorry, Hiko.” He mumbled out, eyes downcast and staring at the floor.

“Huh? For what, dumbass?” Fuyuhiko looked at him incredulously, “You didn’t do nothin’ wrong, stop sweatin’ it. Apologize to yourself.”

Fuyuhiko grumbled slightly under his breath, setting the used wipe aside in favor of gauze and hydrogen peroxide.

“I.. w— well.. I just.. I’m s— sorry you had to see me like— like this.” Kazuichi stuttered and whimpered, curling his knees up a little more to his chest as salty tears rose like waves on his waterline.

“Stop apologizing, jeez. You shouldn’t hav’ta be sayin’ sorry for being human, Kazu.” The annoyance in Fuyuhiko’s voice wasn’t directed at Kazuichi, but instead at his parents and past friends that treated him in such a manner where Kazuichi felt like he had to apologize for every little thing.

Fuyuhiko hated that. He’d beat the motherfuckers six feet deep if he could. Kazuichi apologized for having emotions, like a normal goddamn person. Yeah, the guy was getting better, but fuck if it didn’t piss Fuyuhiko off knowing that he was broken like that as a kid. It angered him beyond belief— but now wasn’t the time to be angry like that, so he focused his attention to cleaning Kazuichi’s scrapes with hydrogen peroxide soaked gauze. He thinks he’s doing it right, if worse comes to worse, he can always ask Tsumiki to look at it once Kazuichi feels better.

With a few more gentle touches, he wrapped the bandaging around Kazuichi’s hand to secure the gauze in place. He put on a healthy amount of neosporin to help, and patted the mechanic’s knee once he was done.

Kazuichi looked up from his hand and to Fuyuhiko’s face instead, seeing his boyfriend start to clean up the medical supplies and trash. He felt weak, physically and mentally, and just wanted to sleep now. His entire body felt like lead, and he could honestly fall asleep right now— so.. he did.

It couldn’t have been very long, his eyes just shut as Fuyuhiko put the bandages away and wiped up the small puddle of hydrogen peroxide. He set the speaker on top of his workbench, and then went over to Kazuichi, who was dozing in and out of the grasp of sleep.

“Oi, Kazu, c’mon. You can’t sleep on the ground like that.” Fuyuhiko nudged the tired boy with his foot, bringing him out of the bleary state he was in.

“Hmmgn..?” Kazuichi rubbed his eyes, feeling the crusting of dried tears and wiping the remnants away.

“We’re goin’ back to the dorms, you can crash at mine.”

“...Okay,” Kazuichi would stand up, brushing himself off and shoving the beanie on his head, “.. Thank you, Hiko.”

“Don’t mention it. Lets go, I have food we can eat if you're still hungry.” The yakuza grabbed the handles of a paper bag that Kazuichi hadn’t even noticed, hoisting it up and holding out his free hand to Kazuichi.

With slight hesitancy, Kazuichi took it, following Fuyuhiko out of the workshop after grabbing his phone and stopping the music. They walked in silence, the halls mostly empty this time of day due to everyone outside or at the dining hall for lunch.

It was about a five minute walk, traveling through buildings and a short walk through the courtyard until they reached the dorm buildings. The moment they were inside Fuyuhiko’s dorm, Kazuichi slid his shoes, beanie, and jumpsuit off, leaving him in his boxers and tee.

“Y’gonna eat or wanna save it for later?” Fuyuhiko set the paper bag on the counter, shrugging his own vest and tie off.

“Mm.. later. Jus’ wanna lay down.”

Fuyuhiko nodded, changing into more comfortable clothes after folding his school clothes on a chair. Now in a tee and sweats, he crawled into the cramped bed where Kazuichi was already hugging a pillow and curled under blankets.

It was endearing, really. Fuyuhiko isn’t one for taking photos, but he grabbed a quick one before setting his phone back on the coffee table to charge. He crawled in, wrapping a protective arm around Kazuichi. He pulled the mechanic towards him, causing Kazuichi to turn around and hug Fuyuhiko like a pillow instead. His face turned red, the gesture still making his heart flutter and melt, warmth spreading through the both of them. They felt like home, like a cozy fireplace on a freezing winter day with hot chocolate and freshly-baked cookies.

They lost each other in the warmth, Kazuichi resting his head on Fuyuhiko’s chest and letting the smaller’s heartbeat lull him into a gentle slumber.

“..I love you, Kaz.”

Kazuichi peeked an eye open for just a moment, leaning up to press a soft kiss to Fuyuhiko’s lips. They sat, just moving their lips together for a few moments before Kazuichi pulled away, foreheads resting against one another.

“I love you too, Hiko.”


End file.
